Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few.
John MasefieldRead
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Interpretation
This quote expresses a deep longing for adventure and the simplicity of life at sea.
John Masefield's quote reflects the wanderlust and desire for freedom that comes from being at sea. It captures the essence of living a carefree life, embracing both the beauty and the challenges of nature, while also yearning for companionship and a peaceful end to one’s adventures.
In practice
This quote is perfect for a speech about the importance of adventure in our lives.
Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few.
I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.
Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt, Myself unwitting where their Master dwells?
Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it.
The earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
Back and forth she went each morning by the river, spring arriving once again; foolish, foolish spring, breaking open its tiny buds, and what she couldn’t stand was how—for many years, really—she had been made happy by such a thing. She had not thought she would ever become immune to the beauty of the physical world, but there you were. The river sparkled with the sun that rose, enough that she needed her sunglasses.
Places that have become agricultural deserts, trashed by giant corporations, could be reforested, drawing carbon dioxide from the air on a vast scale. The ecosystems of land and sea could recover, not just in pockets but across great tracts of the planet.
From the grasses in the field to the stars in the sky, each one is doing just that; and there is such profound peace and surpassing beauty in nature because none of these tries forcibly to transgress its limitations.
The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.
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